


So you're telling me bros usually don't fuck together?

by Masamiya



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky is a giant house cat, Bucky is a tease, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Smut, and Steve sure isn't stoic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamiya/pseuds/Masamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn’t remember exactly what is acceptable or not in society, and just does whatever he wants, like the asshole cat he seemed to become. It appears quickly that what he wants is to end all forms of personal space, and make all of the Avengers coming near Steve's appartment very, very uncomfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So you're telling me bros usually don't fuck together?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [directorsonofcool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/directorsonofcool/gifts).



> I'm french, sorry about the eventual mistakes. Don't hesitate and tell me if I fucked up :D
> 
> This is a Christmas Gift to my friend Franzi.
> 
> You can come and cry about Bucky Barnes with me on tumblr: http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com

 

 

When Steve asked him if he wanted to see other people, Bucky had to think about it a long, long while.

 

The thing is, he didn’t have any memories of who he used to be. It wasn’t how he functioned; he didn’t count on what he remembered -nothing- but on his intuition to guide him in this new everyday life.

Bucky had strong intuitions. He couldn’t exactly call it instinct- it was more than that. For example, he knew some things for sure: watching Steve, he saw big, trusting blue eyes and knew that he was safe. It wasn’t a rational knowledge based on observation or deduction, or even memories of his past, but he knew it to the very core of his being.

 

That was why he came here, in this apartment in New York, in the first place: there had been a pull, a urge to come to Steve and try to have his old life back even if he didn’t really know what living this life entailed.

One day, after having lingered hours and hours at the Smithsonian watching this guy he used to be, this guy who smiled and laughed like it was the most simple and natural thing, he broke into Captain America’s apartment.

He had stayed here since then.

 

He usually spend his time inside, because he didn’t remember what was acceptable social behavior and was sure he was breaking a thousand of unspoken rules every time he tried to go grocery shopping. So yes, he stuck to the apartment and that must be why Steve asked him if it was OK to bring his friends here from time to time, maybe he was worried about Bucky becoming a reclusive. He considered that proposition seriously; it would help sharpen his social abilities.

 

Since he came here it had been just him and Steve. He wanted to adapt first before seeing anyone else, wanted to get used to his surroundings.

The acclimatization had been pretty easy, including the interactions with his old friend. He instinctively knew how to act around him, and when he had doubts about something he observed Steve’s reactions to know if the things he did or said were OK- but he obviously didn’t make a lot of mistakes seeing as the other man didn’t reacted badly even once.

Anyway, Bucky was growing confident and surer of what was allowed with Steve: casual touching for example was almost a muscle memory. He didn’t think about it the first night before climbing into bed with him: it felt so natural that it must be what they used to do, before. He trusted his body and his intuition to guide him and so far it had been good.

 

Steve and he must have been very touchy-feely people once, and it seemed to him like there was an awful lot of skin contact between them, but he didn’t remember if it was normal behavior. For what he knew, all friends could be like that and it felt right, so he kept curling around Steve at every chance. Touch was a huge source of comfort and Rogers provided it unconditionally, so at least Bucky was getting better, having fewer and fewer bad days.

 

Even without any of his old memories, he knew who he was; wasn’t constantly whipped by Hydra and so he had now the time to think about something outside of the missions. Like what kind of man he was, wanted to be. That’s probably why he hadn’t attacked anyone yet. He was gaining control over himself.

 

So yeah, maybe it was time to let other people in.

 

They decided to invite Sam first, just for a few hours to see a movie and maybe grab a pizza.

 

 

__________

 

Bucky was incredibly tense, nervous. He knew that the apartment was a safe territory, he knew that Sam was Steve’s friend and consequently wasn’t a threat –Hell, he knew Steve would be here to protect him if needed. He rationally had no reason to worry but here he was, pacing the living-room with a stomachache he shouldn’t be able to have with the serum’s effects.

 

“We can still cancel, if you want”, suggested Steve from the couch, his eyes truthful and big and comforting; but Bucky didn’t need to be comforted right now, he needed to be pushed a bit to make progress.

Even if Steve would tell Sam not to come in a heartbeat if Bucky asked him to, and wouldn’t hold it against him, this wasn’t the right thing to do. This wasn’t how he was supposed to gain back a life. He muttered:

 

“No, it’s OK”.

 

Even if really it wasn’t. His anxiety was crippling and he needed to calm down if he didn’t want to end up having a panic attack. This was ridiculous: he didn’t even know what he was afraid of. Having fought against Sam once, he knew that he was more than able to put the man down if necessary, so why was his stomach hurting that much?

He glanced at Steve. Maybe he was afraid of something else.

Maybe he didn’t want Sam to tell Steve that Bucky was beyond repair and wasn’t ever going to get his memories back, that he should give up. The sole idea of Steve giving up on him hurt like a punch between the ribs- yeah, that was the real fear.

 

A real, stupid fear. He didn’t need memories of Steve to know that the guy was worse than an army of boy-scouts and would never give up on him, would never kick him out. Knowing that didn’t help with his anxiety, but he knew that physical contact might.

He knew it to his bones, he could feel the need to be pressed against Steve and use him as a giant human shield- maybe that was a consequence of seeing him as Captain America first, maybe that was something from his past that he didn’t remember, he didn’t care.

 

Approaching slowly the couch and his new mission, he tried to determine what would be the better way to proceed. If he decided to lay down with his head on Steve’s lap maybe he would get head scratches, but there would be minimum contact and that wouldn’t do, so he decided against this option in favor of straddling Steve’s thighs and sit there, his head bent to let his forehead rest between a muscly shoulder and a warm neck.

 

There.

 

He was safe, here, he could feel Steve’s pulse and his big arms coming around him without any hesitation, one resting on his head and- yeah, this position too allowed head scratches.

 

They stayed like that silently a few moments before Steve’s voice prompted:

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He nodded, scratching his beard against the fragile skin of Roger’s neck.

 

“You really turned into a giant cat”, Steve told him, and his tone was fond so it seemed to be a good thing. Maybe Captain America always wanted a cat to pet.

 

It was just a bit disappointing because it meant that all the cuddling they did was new, and he had been so sure that it was a thing they used to do before- it seemed so natural.

Like he knew how to use a fork, and that he needed toilet paper, he knew how to fit against Steve’s body.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t rely that much on his intuition, if it was betraying him like that. Or he could keep cuddling Captain America because it wasn’t harming anyone and he actually enjoyed it enough to forget about Sam coming here in a few minutes.

 

Bucky didn’t have any memory but Steve smelled familiar anyway. He was warm and smelled like home, like a quiet evening after a long day of work, he smelled like soap and like the sun.

 

Bucky was burying his nose against the inviting neck, chasing scents and trying to commit to memory Steve’s smell, when the doorbell rang. He tensed immediately and gripped without meaning the meat under his fingers- hard muscles where other people usually have love handles. It was too soon, he didn’t want to leave Steve’s lap yet, didn’t want to face another man, he wanted to burry himself against this shoulder for the rest of eternity and never have to go out again. He knew he had tried to kill Sam once- it really wasn’t something he wanted to deal with right now.

 

Steve’s palm caressed his back in a soothing move and he called in his powerful voice:

 

“Come in, Sam!”

 

The Winter Solider was there, lurking on the verge of his conscience, following Sam’s progress by the sound of the door, his steps, by the noises of the creaking floor. An intruder was in his den. It was a good thing that he was on top of Steve then- better to shield and protect him from the enemy.

He tried to calm down and take back the control over his instincts. It was safe, Sam wasn’t attacking them. Something twisted in his guts, panicking- no, no, he couldn’t afford to get careless, Steve wouldn’t be able to protect himself, he was too small, he was too fragile, he could broke easily, he needed to stand between him and the whole world: people, wind, cold, hunger.

 

Bucky swallowed loudly. He didn’t know why he felt that protective. Steve was Captain fucking America and obviously didn’t need his help, didn’t need to be protected. It didn’t change the fact that the second Sam entered the room, Bucky was back on his feet to shield Steve, his stance menacing.

 

If Sam noticed the tension, he didn’t show it.

 

“Hey, you must be Bucky! Heard a lot about you, man.” His smile was almost disarming and he didn’t try to approach them; his arms were full of pizza boxes that would be very inconvenient if he wanted to fight.

Unless it wasn’t pizza inside, but Steve told him to be more trusting and he was trying not to think too much about which kind of weapon one could conceal in this kind of boxes.

 

Steve didn’t move from where he was, safely sitting behind Bucky.

 

“Good to see you, Sam. Maybe you should put the pizzas in the kitchen while we chose a movie?”

 

Steve’s tone was as cheerful as possible, but Bucky wasn’t fooled. Steve wasn’t able to hide a thing from him to save his life, and he noticed the tension, the underlying command in his voice without having to see his face.

They both waited for Sam to disappear, Bucky holding his breath, his eyes firmly on the intruder’s back until he cleared out. The perimeter was safe again and he was now able to glance at Steve to see if he was upset.

 

There was no anger on the Captain’s face. Worry, maybe. It made Bucky uneasy, made him want to explain himself; he felt guilt worm its way in his womb every time Rogers was worried by his fault, and this time was no exception.

 

“I don’t want him to approach you”, he said tentatively, knowing that the explanation wasn’t elaborate enough to make sense but unable to say more, to vocalize what had him back in a defensive state earlier.

It was really frustrating. There was a part of him that had wanted to protect his friend, but there also was a hint of possessiveness in it; he wanted to curl around Steve’s body and growl at anyone who would come too close, like a weird metal-armed animal.

Bathing in Steve’s warm touches and in his smell was the most glorious and natural thing to do, but the idea of anyone else doing it was making him sick. He couldn’t even stand the idea of Sam sitting near Rogers to watch a movie.

 

“I don’t want him to approach you”, he tried again, “It feels like a threat. It threatens me.”

 

He glanced at Rogers to see his reaction. He was almost proud of himself. He was getting better at explaining his feelings, better at giving information, at admitting his flaws and at giving hits about his weaknesses. It was a declaration of trust, showing Steve the cracks in the Winter Soldier’s armor.

 

Steve smiled warmly at him and patted the couch next to him.

 

“Then you could take the entire place here to force him to sit on the armchair.”

 

It was a simple solution, and it felt like he was plotting with Rogers, like they shared a secret at Sam’s depends. He didn’t know that Steve was that much of a sneaky boy under his “I’m doing my prayers every night” angel face, but somehow it didn’t surprise him much.

 

When Sam came back, he didn’t even spare a glance at Bucky’s form lying on the couch and sat on the armchair, eyes riveted on the screen where the beginning of a movie was playing.

Bucky didn’t really watched the movie Steve had chosen, his head on the muscled thigh, busy listening to Roger’s blood pumping against his ear.

 

He somehow knew that the sound was the same you can hear when you press an ear against a sea-shell.

 

That’s how he fell asleep right next to Sam Wilson.

 

 

 

 

 

After that very successful time, Sam came more often; and Bucky didn’t even twitched after the third visit, letting Sam come inside without batting an eyelid or even stopping what he was doing.

 

Better, he even began to appreciate Sam’s presence in their space. The guy was funny enough, never pushed him to speak, all easy banter with Steve.

Bucky used the time Sam spent in their apartment to observe him, and more precisely to observe his reactions in front of Bucky’s actions, hoping it would help him know if he was behaving in a socially acceptable way.

He didn’t want to be a freak just because he wasn’t able to remember how to do things, how to deal with people. Steve had showed him a Disney movie- the little mermaid, and since then he had the fear of doing the same mistakes she did when she discovered human’s tools.

 

So he stayed attentive and observed.

 

He noticed the way Sam was frowning every time at his knives when he noticed them, and noted that his weapons were making people uncomfortable. He learned to hide them better.

Sam and Steve were always shaking hands, and he deduced that it was the normal thing to do when you say hello to a friend, but couldn’t bring himself to shake hands with Steve, so he stuck to what he used to do: hugging him in the morning, rubbing his beard against his cheeks, or just rolling on top of him to prevent him from leaving the bed if they were both still in it. He tried to shake hands once or twice with Sam, though.

 

He learned a lot of things: that it was better to be dressed in front of people, for example. Of course, Bucky never spent the day naked because he was getting cold quickly, but he was very comfortable with the idea of nudity and never tried to hide his body when he was naked: after a shower, when he was shaving or looking for clean clothes in Steve’s closet.

Steve never said a thing- except for “No, Buck, I wanted to wear this shirt today, could you please take another one?”-, so Bucky didn’t know that nudity was a big NO in public.

Until Sam saw him getting out of the bathroom after one of his showers and fucking _blushed_ , averting his gaze like some dame.

 

Bucky ran to Steve’s closet in his hurry to find pants, and never had the same relaxed attitude towards nudity when someone else was in the apartment. Except for Steve- there was nothing he hadn’t seen, after all. It was too late for modesty on this front.

He also learned a lot of useful things thanks to the movies they were watching with Sam: it was a safe way to observe people interacting and live their everyday lives. That’s how he found out that Steve’s routine, being up at 5’am to workout, wasn’t common and probably was an old habit he kept after his service in the army.

 

Sometimes, Sam wasn’t bringing pizza and invaded their kitchen instead. Bucky picked up a few things by watching the guy cook. Even if he had his memories back, there was a lot of few things, Steve told him. Robots, tools, ingredients that they hadn’t even known existed back in the 40.

He learned in order to teach Steve a few things (the next day, when he showed him how to use a blender, Steve had been really impressed and had looked at him in awe- it had been the highlight of Bucky’s day, his chest swelling with pride). Plus, he always had talent with knives and it was as useful in the kitchen as in a mission.

He started to watch cooking shows on the TV.

 

All in all, with Sam’s presence, Bucky was growing more and more confident, trying new things, experiencing a bit. At first Steve had been a bit wary, especially when Bucky had decided to see if singing could be his thing; Sam had to take him in another room- as if it would prevent Bucky from hearing them anyway- to tell him that as long as Bucky wasn’t hurting anyone it was really important to let him try anything he wanted to try.

Sam had regretted these words soon enough, when he discovered why Steve had been so reluctant. Singing definitely wasn’t Bucky’s thing.

 

Since that episode, Steve never tried to refrain Bucky in his experiences and even agreed to buy Egyptian cotton sheets for their beds when he asked him to.

 

Life was good, and Steve began to hint at inviting other people in their house, suggesting that Bucky should try and go out sometimes, offering to spar with him at the gym in Stark Tower.

 

All these suggestions being quite reasonable, Bucked asked a bit hesitantly if it was okay with Steve to bring Natasha here. She was, like most of the people gravitating around Steve, a familiar figure; the difference was that he didn’t know her because he saw her on the file he had to study before trying to take down Captain America.

He didn’t know her because they fought on the bridge.

 

He had known her way before that. In fact, he was pretty sure he worked with her once- she used to be Hydra.

It meant that she escaped, just like him; that she could understand him better than most. She would be careful, and it would give him the opportunity to speak Russian again.

 

(It also meant that she knew how to fight, how to fight dirty, and that he wasn’t sure that he would be able to take her down. Inviting her was a demonstration of trust.)

 

They took their time deciding how they were going to do that. Bucky tried to explain why things were different with Natasha, why he trusted her more than most of the Avengers and why, paradoxically, it was also the reason why he knew that she could be the most frightening. It was going to be a very stressful first official encounter between Mrs Romanoff and Mr Barnes.

 

They agreed that movies and a pizza wouldn’t be appropriate and that coffee would do the trick. Coffee was good, coffee wouldn’t take a lot of time, Bucky was repeating to himself the day she was supposed to come, hoping that it would calm his nerves down.

Coffee was a formality; he could drink his real fast if he needed to get out. He could sip it if things went well. But he wouldn’t be able to protect himself _and_ Steve if she wanted to attack.

He went back to the bedroom in order to find some weapons, retrieved a few knives from under the bed and hid them under his clothes, where he could grip them fast if needed. It didn’t improve his nervousness, but there was nothing more he could think of doing so he went back in the living-room were Steve gave him a sympathetic smile.

 

“Nervous?”

 

He nodded. The situation was turning him into a mute thing; he had started to walk without a noise a few hours ago, slipping back into the Winter Soldier without meaning to.

Steve approached him slowly, cautiously, making sure not to startle him and putted his hands on his shoulders to get his attention.

 

“It’s normal, Buck. It was the same the first time Sam came here, remember? There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

Bucky tried to listen to him, focusing on the honesty in the blue eyes fixed on his but couldn’t summon faith in his words. They weren’t safe with Natasha- nobody was safe with her. Sure, she helped Steve when he was the Winter Soldier’s target, and Bucky was thankful for that, but he still couldn’t trust her completely, not with Steve’s life, not in Steve’s apartment.

 

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because suddenly he was surrounded by Steve’s arms, heat, comforting smell. Hugs were Steve’s go-to solution for most of Bucky-related issues, and it was usually great but it wasn’t enough this time to make him forget that an ex-Hydra agent was about to come in his refuge.

It must be really obvious to Steve, that the muscles under his hands were still tense, that the body against his hasn’t deflated under the relief that touch brought to Bucky; and he felt guilt for not being able to be the slumping mess of limbs he turned into every time he was in contact with Roger’s body. Now the guy was going to worry, and it was his entire fault.

He needed to find a solution.

 

“Maybe you should go”, he suggested, his words caressing Steve’s neck.

 

“I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone, Buck.”

 

He frowned. No, it wasn’t about leaving him alone. It’s just that Bucky wouldn’t be able to protect them both from Natasha. He needed to be alone with her, on a level ground, to worry less. He knew that she wasn’t going to attack them, but the possibility was still here and it was enough to stress him out.

 

He disentangled himself from Steve just enough to look at him in the eyes.

 

“You don’t understand. She’s dangerous.”

 

“And I’ll be here to protect you.”

 

Damn, Rogers was stubborn.

 

“And I won’t be able to protect _you_!”

 

“It’s not your job.”

 

Bucky clenched his teeth, frustrated. Steve was watching him, unshakable, his jaw squared and his voice steady; it was like talking to a wall, but he needed him to understand. He cupped Steve’s face in his hands, making sure he had all his attention:

 

“It’s not a job. I _need_ to be able to protect you. I won’t be able to do that with Natasha. You need to go.”

 

Steve watched him attentively. Bucky knew what he must be seeing: his pupils dilated by fear, dark circles under his eyes, sweat on his temples.

 

“I can protect myself. I’m not leaving you in that state.”

 

His tone was final. Bucky groaned. The motherfucker wasn’t going to change his damn mind, the discussion was over, point.

 

“I hate you”, he murmured.

 

In front of him, Steve’s face fell and he regretted immediately what he just said.

 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that”, he added, his voice urgent. Steve gave him a tight smile, not believing him, his skin paler than ever, because he was a fucking idiot and had chosen the worst moment ever to begin to listen to what Bucky said.

 Bucky would gladly tell him that he was a moron, but he was sure that Steve would believe him, so he sighed and kissed him instead.

 

Steve’s lips were full and it was really enjoyable. Bucky didn’t really know if it had been a good call until Steve began to kiss him back. He had decided to kiss him because he had seen people doing it in some of the movies Sam was making them watch- and it was often a reassuring gesture, proving the great affection between two people. It seemed like the right thing to do, the socially acceptable solution to show Steve that Bucky hadn’t mean to hurt him, and that yes, Bucky was still his pal.

 

What the movies hadn’t told was that it was fucking amazing, to kiss someone. He should have done it sooner if he had known- after all, Steve and he were best buddies, they totally should kiss all the time. It was even better than hugging.

Not better than falling asleep on top of Steve, his steady and calming heartbeat in his ear, but still amazing.

 

“Am I interrupting?”

 

The amused voice brought Bucky back to reality, and in half a second he was facing the intruder, hands pawing at the weapons concealed underneath his clothes.

Natasha smiled at him teasingly. She obviously was proud of her little trick, breaking in without being noticed. She could have killed both of them.

 

Steve mumbled from behind him that she could have used a door, and she ignored him, walking straight past them to the kitchen.

Bucky followed her, suspicious and unwilling to let her access to the numerous knives stocked in the drawers and watched her making coffee like she was home, opening the rights cupboards to get cups and sugar at the first try. She knew her way around Steve’s kitchen like it was hers.

 

He filed the information and noted that he needed to discover if it was because she had been invited here before or if she had just spied on them lately.

 

“So, I guess it explains why you haven’t been on dates with your neighbor”, she told Steve with the same teasing tone she used when she interrupted them.

Bucky fought the urge to put his body in front of Steve’s to hide him from her.

 

“It’s not like that”, Steve answered, and Bucky noticed that he seemed nervous and wasn’t meeting Natasha’s gaze. He didn’t know what was going on, but Steve wasn’t comfortable with the topic. Maybe they were continuing a conversation they had before? Maybe Steve’s neighbor was ugly and Natasha saw her when she came in?

 

Romanoff laughed.

 

“Sure, it was CPR”, she joked.

 

The hell was CPR? Why the coffee was taking so long to be ready?

Steve didn’t answer, and stayed tense. Bucky sympathized with Steve’s muscles, at this point. He put a tentative arm around Steve’s waist to show him his support, even if it was an arm he wouldn’t use as fast in case of danger, and Natasha snorted.

He didn’t like this sound.

 

“You makin’ fun of Stevie?”

 

He didn’t know where it came from, the nickname fitting for the first time in his mouth, the Brooklyn accent coming naturally; he hadn’t even known what they were talking about but he had sensed that she was somehow mocking his friend. He was upset. Nobody should make a nice guy like Steve tense like that.

 

“ _I’m not, no need to hiss, kitten_ ”, she replied in Russian.

 

“I’m no kitten”, he mumbled in English because even without his memories he was a well-educated assassin and knew that Steve wasn’t able to understand Russian.

 

“You sorta turned into a cat recently, though”, Steve replied with a smile. Bucky retailed by pinching his sides discreetly. Steve didn’t flinch, the stoical bastard.

The coffee was ready and Natasha served three cups.

 

“When you say he turned into a cat… He brought dead baddies on your doorstep as a peace offering or..?”

 

Bucky glared at her.

 

“That must be because of my claws”, he answered as Steve sassed “He likes being petted, now”.

 

This time, Steve flinched when Bucky pinched him.

Natasha seemed unimpressed, sipping her coffee.

 

“Is that why he was fucking your mouth with his tongue? You two have some weird no homo going on”.

 

Bucky frowned. He didn’t like the dirty way she presented their kiss. Their kiss had been beautiful and soft, and it was Bucky showing his affection and soothing Steve. There was no fucking involved- fucking was something else entirely, he was pretty sure about that. And what was a no homo, anyway?

Steve was clearly looking at anything but Natasha, sitting quietly in one of the chairs around the table- probably to make himself small- and he wasn’t going to let her get away with this.

 

“I fucked his mouth with my tongue because I wanted to. If you don’t like it, you can get out, because I’m about to do it again.”

 

He straddled Steve thighs, heard vaguely Natasha sighing “Oh my God” before kissing Steve. He didn’t know what was Natasha’s problem with him kissing Steve. He knew that it wasn’t inappropriate behavior; in the movies, they were doing it everywhere, even in the streets, so it was socially acceptable.

Maybe she was just embarrassed to know that the guy she knew as the Winter Soldier could show affection to someone. He didn’t care; it was a very pleasant thing, and if someone deserved to be showed affection, it was Steve.

 

He stopped only a few seconds later, just to be sure that he got his point across. Steve’s smile was particularly broad.

 

“That’s how it’s going to be, then? No personal space between you two?”

 

Bucky smiled. This time, he wasn’t lost. He suddenly understood why she had been like that about their kiss. Black Widow was big on personal space, she wouldn’t let anyone close.

The problem wasn’t his social behavior.

 

“Not everyone is as constipated as you, Romanoff. Some of us are perfectly well-adjusted.”

 

He hoped it wasn’t a lie he was telling her. He still wasn’t that well-adjusted, but today went well, all things considered.

After that, she never commented again on their cuddling or their kissing.

 

 

________________

 

 

The thing is, Bucky was aware that he had been kissing Steve a lot this day. Even without memories, he knew that people weren’t supposed to be attached by the lips- he suspected that it had driven Natasha away. It wasn’t his fault- it was new and nice and Steve seemed to like it a lot, too.

In the movies, people were kissing and then moving on. Somehow, he wasn’t really about to stop when he started, he realized the next morning.

Lazy kissing first thing in the morning was his new favorite thing, he decided, even if Steve’s morning breath was awful. It felt like they were the last ones alive in the world, like they had all the time they wanted. He wasn’t sure if it was still about showing Steve affection anymore-that point had been made copiously already the previous day- or if he was just chasing sensations.

Anyway, it was glorious; all his senses were attuned to the man pressed against him, every part of his body touching Steve burning with pleasure- maybe he really was turning into a giant cat, after all, seeking caresses, blooming under Roger’s large hands.

 

He shifted to be on top of Steve, all his skin tingling with the need to be touched, and sighed happily when their chests brushed. He felt Steve’s smile against his mouth, licked it, content for the first time in seventy years.

His only regret was that his metal arm wasn’t able to convey sensations like the other one. No, scratch that, he also regretted the fact that they both slept with their briefs on: he wanted the entirety of their bodies to touch, he wanted as much contact as humanly possible.

The new position made him realize that his cock was hard, and that was something new- it hadn’t happen when he was the Winter Soldier, and didn’t happened since either- but it felt strangely familiar. It wasn’t abnormal, since Roger’s own hard-on was straining his briefs and poking him in the stomach. He felt his heartbeat going wilder with each breath.

He instinctively knew what it would do if he decided to rub his prick against Roger’s, even before moving, and the anticipation was delicious; he tried to be as still as possible, very carefully kissing the man under him, rediscovering a pleasure he hadn’t know was even possible.

 

The first thrust of his hips against Steve made him exhale a curse and Steve actually whimpered, his hands gripping Bucky’s ass through his underwear to keep him moving, increasing the pressure between them.

He expected it to feel good, but not that much- it was uncontrollable, it was making him crazy, he would do anything for Steve to keep kissing him, to keep touching him. He kissed him open-mouthed, dirty, sucking on his lower lip and licking his tongue in rhythm with his thrusting.

Steve was moving his hips up now to meet his, his moves a bit erratic and off-rhythm, like he hadn’t done this for a while and was now as desperate as Bucky.

 

The pleasure was almost unbearable, increasing with each roll of their hips, building up and Bucky had to grip hard Steve’s hair with his flesh hand to anchor himself, earning a moaning from his partner.

It sure as hell wasn’t just kissing anymore, he thought briefly. He wanted to lick the sweat off Steve’s body, and somehow he wasn’t sure that it was normal behavior between friends. No, in fact, now that he was thinking about it, the sensation felt familiar because he remembered something- he remembered doing it, before, with a lady…

He remembered his own hands on his cock, late at night, in a bed right next to Steve’s and… Oh.

 

“Oh my God”, he blurted, “Steve, we’re queer for each other.”

 

Steve stopped their activities to look at him in the eyes, seemingly not that much perturbed by Bucky’s epiphany.

 

“Yeah, I know, can I suck your dick now?”

 

Bucky frowned. Well, if it didn’t bothered Steve then it was all good to be queer. And he didn’t remember having his cock sucked, so…

 

He nodded.

 

 

_________

 

 

The next months or so, Bucky worked on meeting the other Avengers. He also learned what was considered “over-sharing” and that even if being queer wasn’t punished now, he shouldn’t try to cop a feel through Steve’s pants during interviews.

He kept climbing him like a tree every time he could get away with it and tapped that patriotic ass at every chance he got.

 

Natasha even said that it would almost be cute to see him always curled around Steve if it wasn’t for the fact that he was still pawing at his knives every time someone was entering the same room as his precious Stevie, so that must be acceptance.

 

Life wasn’t perfect, and he hadn’t all of his memories back, but- he sure was creating new ones.

 

 


End file.
